


Red

by CoolDoggo



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aftercare, Bloodplay, Bottom Yuri Plisetsky, Established Relationship, Knifeplay, M/M, Masochism, NSFW Yurio Week, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Sadism, Top Katsuki Yuuri, asexual kink, wound care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 21:44:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12117834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoolDoggo/pseuds/CoolDoggo
Summary: Sometimes affection isn't cuddles and gentle touches, sometimes it's a sharp knife and a trail of red running down your thighs.





	Red

**Author's Note:**

> Please understand that this is an established relationship and all kink negotiation has been handled already. I personally just find most kink negotiation boring as hell to write and really don't see the point in writing a negotiation scene when this is an established relationship and they've done this a several times before. 
> 
> Also please understand that this fic contains description of someone pushed a bit too far into subspace. The aftercare scene contains bathing someone and wound care. I'm just really not sure how to tag that?? Also super duper light bondage but i don't really think that needs a tag???
> 
> Ages are ambiguous. Timeline is ambiguous. Picture whatever you like. I picture Yuri as being 18+ and post-canon in this fic due to the established relationship aspect but it's not set in stone.
> 
> Written for NSFW Yurio Week "Free day" prompt

“Excited?”

Yuri all but shivers at the question, watching with great interest as Yuuri sterilizes the knives.

He doesn't need an answer to know, the hungry look in Yuri’s eyes says it all. Patience has never been Yuri’s strong point, and it takes every ounce of self-restraint for him to not rush Yuuri through the crucial step of sterilization.

“I think that should be good,” Yuuri says as he gives the blades a final pass before turning his attention over toward Yuri. “Ready?”

Eagerly, Yuri leaps up from his seat. “Finally,” he says, “I've been waiting forever.”

Yuuri laughs and takes Yuri’s hand into his own and begins pulling him toward their bedroom, “C’mon then, let's not keep you waiting, or me waiting. I’ve been looking forward to this too, you know.”

“Yeah, because you're fucking sadistic. Who would have ever known.” A light jest.

“Is that meant to be an insult? You love it, don't even deny it,” Yuuri teasingly coos, “And you know, a sadist is nothing without a masochist to hurt.”

Yuri feels his face flush slightly at the title. “I'm not…!” As much as he knows it to be true, hearing it said out loud so casually is just...a bit flustering.

“Oh, you're not a masochist?” A mischievous look flashes across his eyes, the kind of look he gets when he's about to ruffle Yuri’s feathers, “Maybe I should just tie you to the bed and do nothing then, since you're apparently not into being tortured anymore.”

As expected, Yuri glares at him. It's cute how predictable he is. “Don't you dare…!”

Immediately, Yuri regrets saying that because he can just _see_ the gears turning in Yuuri’s head. He totally would tie him to the bed and do nothing, even after he starts aggressively begging. That jerk. He'd enjoy every moment of his frustration too. Again, that jerk.

But luckily, now is not the time for that. Yuri knows his other half has been looking forward to this just as much as he has. Being able to play with knives is a rare treat given their careers, and neither of them are keen on wasting the opportunity now that they have the next few weeks off.

“Take off your shirt and lay down” Yuuri instructs when they reach their bedroom. Towels have already been laid across the sheets, and Yuri obediently takes his place on them, his shirt discarded in some random corner of their room. As he lays down, Yuri’s eyes dart over to the rope next to them on their bed, and his heart flutters in anticipation.

Yuuri catches on and grins. “Give me your hands.”

He does, and Yuuri loops the rope around Yuri’s dainty wrists, knotting it tight and binding his wrists together before securing him to the headboard above his head. Yuri gives a few experimental tugs, the soft cotton rope digging slightly into his skin as he does. It's secure; he's not going anywhere.

“There, now you can't accidentally smack me in the face,” Yuuri teases, remembering the first time they had ever indulged in this little kink of theirs. A fun, albeit messy experience.

“That was _one_ time,” Yuri says back. Hey, how was he supposed to know he’d have that instinctive reaction to Yuuri running a sharpened blade through his skin?

It's a learning process, and they both agreed that maybe it's best to tie him up before having some fun, just like they learned that towels are mandatory, the bathroom floor is an uncomfortable place for knifeplay, and how to wash blood out of said mandatory towels.

“Oh hush, I’m starting now,” Yuuri says, grabbing the duller blade and sitting firmly on Yuri’s legs. He takes a moment to soak in the beauty of the marks on the side of Yuri’s torso, the pale white scars which decorate his ribcage.

Yuri knows he's being admired, and a shiver runs down his spine when Yuuri leans in and peppers soft kisses over the scars he so lovingly created. Yuri’s shiver deepens when he feels the metal pressed against his naked skin, cool and smooth to the touch. Yuuri’s gentle with the blade at first, slow and tortuous and _boring_ , but right as he's about to tell him to get on with it, to stop this bullshit teasing, Yuuri firmly presses the blade in a soft spot between his ribs and drags, causing his eyes to snap shut and making him hiss out at the sudden sting. He keeps dragging, hard and slow before releasing. The blossoming pain immediately quiets any complaints Yuri might of had, and Yuuri hardly waits for the pain to dissipate before repeating the process several more times.

“You were about to tell me to hurry up, weren't you?” His voice is low, rough and dangerous around the edges. It's all the proof Yuri needs to know that Yuuri’s entered his sadist headspace. Things were about to get rough, and Yuri’s heart beats wildly in his chest.

That's when he feels it, a sudden slash across his chest, harder and faster than the others before it, causing him to gasp out and wince. The blade leaves an angry red welt in its wake, and all Yuuri says in response is, “That's what you get for being so impatient.”

“Hurry up and do it again.” Yuri eggs him on, as that's how they decide to play this game.

“So bossy, even when you're helpless to do anything,” Yuuri mutters as he slashes the knife across Yuri’s skin again, short and fast with moderate pressure multiple times. A groan forms in the back of Yuri’s throat, and he bites down on his bottom lip to keep it in.

Yuuri, however, decides he wants to hear whatever noise his Yuri is attempting to swallow. He lifts the blade from the irritated and tender skin before harshly jabbing it back in and painfully dragging it at an agonizingly slow speed. Immediately, Yuri's back arches in response to the sensation, and he lets out a quiet noise stuck somewhere a moan and a groan. Yuri’s always been quiet when he's in pain, and these scenes are certainly no exception to the rule, so to hear him make an an audible noise beyond a hiss or a small gasp makes Yuuri shudder in delight. He finishes his slow and tortuous drag, ending it with a hard downward flick, earning him another quiet moan from Yuri. Satisfaction bubbles in Yuuri’s stomach, and seeing the small droplets of blood emerge from the cut he made only furthers the feeling. When he draws blood with their dull knife, and when he gets a noise out of Yuri, that's when he knows he did good.

“There's more where that came from, Yura,” Yuuri whispers in his ear, dipping his fingers into the tiny drops of blood and spreading them around the site of the scratch. It's a small taste of what's to come. Yuri swallows in anticipation, and all he can do is gently nod his head.

Yuuri wastes no time pressing the blade back into his skin, this time starting above his rib cage. He drags the blade over the bumps of Yuri’s bony ribs, hard enough to draw blood yet again. He repeats the process again, and again, until Yuri’s whimpering and twitching from trying not to writhe underneath him. Yuuri stops for a moment to examine Yuri’s face, a quick check to make sure things are fine, and he can't help but smile when he catches glimpse of tears welling up in those beautiful eyes of his.

Of course, Yuri’s much too proud to cry yet, and Yuuri knows this. It's a silent challenge accepted, to see how long it takes for him to make the tears actually spill.

“In tears already?” He says, “I haven't even used the good knife on you yet.”

Yuri attempts to scowl at him. “Then hurry up and use it already…” He’s trying to egg Yuuri on, giving him permission for more, to go harder, but his voice is soft, almost meek. The softness in Yuri’s voice is electrifying, a welcome sign he's finally slipping into his own headspace. Much like he's slow to express express his pain, Yuri was slow to enter subspace. Yuuri licks his lips, eager to get him fully there. Only then would Yuri stop trying to be tough and swallow his pain. _Please, Yuri, just let it out._ To hear those beautiful pained moans of his, to see his adorable tear stained face, and to feel him thrashing beneath him, helpless to get away, that's all Yuuri yearns for.

Yuuri places the blade under Yuri’s chin, taking care not to cut or scratch, and lifts, forcing his head up and for him to look into his eyes. “I’ll decide when to use the good knife, and right now, I don't want to. Understand?” He removes the knife, and lets Yuri gently nod his head. In response, he gives a quick jab and flick of the knife to Yuri’s skin, causing Yuri to sharply inhale.

Yuri’s torso is a mess of angry red marks, swollen and tender to the touch. The thought of slicing the sensitive skin open and hearing Yuri yowl makes him shudder in delight. Too bad Yuri’s not quite ready for that, he won't cry out just yet, but Yuuri knows how to get him there.

The look Yuri gives him when he goes to unfasten his jeans is one of the greatest things Yuuri’s ever seen. It's a look of utter disbelief, _why aren't you hurting me, why'd you stop_ , but slowly morphs into excitement and the slightest hint of fear once the jeans are pulled down the swell of his hips, past his thighs, and thrown off to the side somewhere.

“You're legs have always been the more sensitive part on you, haven't they?” Yuuri purrs, gently tracing the pale, slightly raised scars on his hips and thighs. Yuri's breath catches in his throat as Yuuri affectionately touches his scars, the scars he gifted to him.

Yuuri doesn't bother waiting for Yuri to respond, and wastes no time pressing the knife into the soft flesh between his thighs. The strokes are short and quick, but a loving amount of pressure is applied to each and every one. He decides to slowly elongate the slashes, increasing the pressure and slowing down the speed the farther down his inner thighs he goes. No blood is drawn, but Yuri’s so sensitive there that Yuuri doesn't need blood to know he's doing a good job. Yuri's loud mewling is proof enough.

Yuri’s breathing harder now, and Yuuri revels in the tiny moans between each breathless gasp. He moves onto his other thigh, grinning as Yuri's thighs begin trembling under his touch.

But Yuuri wants to push him further, to tease him more before he gives Yuri what he really wants. He harshly slashes Yuri’s outer thighs, each strong enough to draw tiny drops of blood. Yuri’s quiet whimpers turn into pained grunts as he helplessly pulls at his restraints. Oh, how delicious that blood would look running down his thighs, but patience, that will come soon enough.

Yuri looks up at Yuuri, eyes wide and begging for something more. The resistance, his constant facade of _I must be tough_ is slowly fading from his face, and the corners of his eyes are glistening with fresh tears threatening to spill over. He's so close to it, just a bit more… Yuuri gives him a moment to catch his breath, leaning over and kissing his forehead as he does. Yuri’s still and quiet beneath him, no longer egging him on for more, but rather laying there in quiet eager acceptance for what's to come.

Yes...breaking him down is all part of the fun, and Yuuri glows in the knowledge that he's the only one who can break through Yuri's act, the only one with permission to strip him down to such a state of raw vulnerability, the only one with permission to build him back up again.

“Soon, Yuri, soon,” Yuuri hums, brushing hair out of Yuri’s face. Yuri opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

He needs to see how much fight Yuri has left in him. Yuuri picks up the dull knife again, and presses it against Yuri’s hip, harshly scratching it against the area where his hipbone juts out. It's a particularly sensitive spot, and Yuri immediately hissing out in pain is something truly marvelous, a very welcome sign. He keeps going over the spot, dragging the knife over his hip bone downward toward his thigh, never waiting for the pain to soothe before going again. Yuri’s squirming beneath him, face clenched and no longer hissing or whimpering, but rather letting out a series of audible grunts and groans. Small amounts of blood trickle down Yuri's hip, and Yuuri can't help but dig his fingers into the shallow wounds, and Yuri loudly whines in retaliation.

_He’s done being tough, it's time._

While Yuri is unaware, too busy struggling underneath, Yuuri grabs their good knife, the sharp one and presses down against his hip, slicing through the tender, sensitive flesh like soft butter.

“Son of a bitch!” Yuri breathlessly yells out, back arching at the sudden flood of pain. Blood slowly bubbles out from the cut, and Yuuri laughs at Yuri’s reaction. He can't help but dip his fingers in, enjoying it's sticky warmth.

“Yes, that's right, scream for me. I've been waiting for this.” Yuuri’s voice is dark and heavy, dripping in sadistic delight. He takes the blood, smearing a small amount across Yuri’s cheekbone and wiping the excess down the side of his cheek down toward his jaw. The action makes Yuri’s mouth go dry, leaves him needing more. He soon makes another another cut, slow and agonizing over the raised welts and shallow marks on Yuri’s hip and thigh. Beneath him, all Yuri can do is writhe helplessly and pull at the ropes which bind his hands together, swearing in between his quiet, anguished moans.

Finally, the tears begin to spill from the corners of Yuri’s glistening eyes, and Yuuri takes a moment to soak in the beauty of the sight. Yuri’s strong and tough, and he swells with pride knowing he alone brought on those tears. He watches as the wet tears mix with the moist blood which he spread across his face, causing it to run in a crimson streak down his cheek.

“You're beautiful when you cry, Yura,” Yuuri whispers, his voice tender, loving, and dangerous all at once. He brings his hand to gently touch Yuri’s face, carefully wiping away a few tears as he does. They mix with the blood clinging to the tips of Yuuri’s fingers, spreading it in a visible streak under his eye. That alone is enough to make Yuri melt and tremble in fear. Who knew that Yuuri, quiet and timid in his daily life, had the power to strike fear into the heart of a fearless tiger.

“Yuuri…” he murmurs through half-lidded eyes, but his eyes soon shoot open when Yuuri suddenly begins trailing another wound down his leg, deepening one of the more sensitive, shallow cuts.

Any hint that Yuri might still be swallowing his pain is completely gone by the time Yuuri moves onto his other leg. Each of the cuts are slow and agonizing, leaving him sobbing and shaking. Yuuri always takes his time with the good blade, really making sure Yuri feels every sliver of pain. Yuri let's out a small, choked sob as Yuuri starts another laceration. His chest still throbs and aches from the prior round, but it's nothing compared to the sharp, torturous stinging of his lower body.

The blood feels warm and sticky as it slowly drips down the sides of Yuri’s thighs, and he shudders as he feels Yuuri run his fingers across the open wounds.

“I wish you could see how beautiful you look like this,” Yuuri whispers heavily in his ear. “The blood running down your thighs...” He stops speaking, taking a moment to press his fingers into the lacerations. Yuri sputters out as he does, Yuuri’s fingers feeling cold and wet inside of him.

“Your scratched up chest,” Yuuri pauses again, roughly tracing the the contours of his torso with his bloody hands, effectively smearing blood over the shallow cuts and painful welts. The dark red is a stark contrast to Yuri’s pale skin. It's beautiful, absolutely beautiful.

“...Your crying face…” Yuuri brushes Yuri’s bangs out of his eyes, enjoying the fact he's getting blood all in Yuri’s hair and on his forehead. He swipes the rest of the blood alongside Yuri’s chin, near his lips as he leans in to kiss him. Before Yuri can kiss him back, he pulls away.

“Time for more. You’d like that, wouldn't you?” Yuuri tells him as he glides the knife across Yuri’s ribs. He lets out a choking noise, his head thrashing from side to side as Yuuri works his down his ribcage.

Yuri’s panting heavily, and strands of hair are plastered against the sides of his face by the time Yuuri does a silent check on him. Despite the tears steadily flowing down his cheeks, quiet sobbing, and his pained expression, his eyes are determined and yearning for more.

Yuuri decides he's had enough of the sharp knife, or more rather, Yuri’s bloody thighs and ribs have had enough. He grabs the the dull knife and presses the knife gently against the the open wounds on Yuri’s thigh. “Scream,” he says, dragging the knife across the cuts before Yuri has any time to mentally prepare.

And Yuri does. His face twists in pain as he thrashes wildly underneath Yuuri’s firm grasp on him. He does it again and again, and judging by Yuri’s loud wailing, the pain is excruciating. It's almost dizzying to hear him wail so loud, and Yuuri feels giddy from enjoyment as Yuri blubbers out a mix of incoherent Russian and English words.

Still, despite his giddy enjoyment, he remains attentive to Yuri, more so than ever since they’ve been at it for a while and he knows Yuri can only handle so much. After a few more rounds, he realizes Yuri’s breathing too hard and fast for his comfort. He immediately looks up at Yuri, whose eyes are tightly closed and his hands are balled up into fists.

“Yuri, relax,” he gently commands as he puts down the knife, “breathe.”

Yuri opens his eyes and attempts to steady his breathing. “Please, keep going. Keep doing it,” he mumbles in between breaths.

“Relax and breathe first, then we’ll see.” Yuuri can see that Yuri’s eyes are slightly glazed over, a sign it's time to stop. He runs his bloody hand through Yuri’s hair, trying to soothe and relax him, making a mental note to himself to wash Yuri’s hair extra good later. Despite Yuri's soft crying, his breathing soon steadies and his eyes regain their focus.

“Maybe we should stop. Do you want to stop?” Yuuri asks, but Yuri furiously shakes his head, begging him to keep going.

Really, Yuuri knows they really should stop, but Yuri insists he can handle more. He takes a long look at Yuri’s eyes, making sure he's fully present and aware, which he is, before deciding that it will probably be okay to end it on a somewhat gentler note.

He's leaving Yuri’s thighs the hell alone though.

Yuuri picks up the dull knife again, and carefully presses it against one of the less sensitive spots on his torso, pressing down and dragging with a moderate amount of pressure. Yuri's back slightly arches as he lets out a pained noise. Still, after another reasonably gentle experimental slash or two, Yuuri can instantly tell Yuri’s not responding the right way. He's too pliant, too quiet and still to really be all that there, much less tell him to stop if he went too far. He lays there, eyes closed, shaking, and silently sobbing.

“Yuri, Yura. Look at me,” Yuuri says as he leans over and gently cups the side of Yuri’s face, positioning him in such a way that he can really look at him. Yuri opens his eyes, and Yuuri already knows they are done for good this time. They're back to being unfocused, and Yuri struggles to even look in Yuuri’s direction, much less at him. It's not unusual for this to happen, especially when Yuri is pushed beyond his limits like today, but it's alarming every time.

“Why are you stopping…?” Yuri mumbles between sobs as Yuuri undoes the ropes binding him to the bed.

“You can't even look at me. It's time for me to take care of you. I want to take care of you now, so please, stop fighting and let me.”

He frees Yuri’s hands and begins rubbing his wrists where the ropes dug in. Yuri however, decides he wants none of that, and instead proceeds to wrap his arms around Yuuri, clinging to him and hiding his face in the crook of his neck while he softly sobs.

Yuuri just hugs him back, rubbing soothing motions between his shoulder blades. “You did so good, I'm proud of you,” Yuuri whispers to him as he waits for Yuri's crying and trembling to stop. He tries to ignore the guilt forming in his gut over his lapse of judgement.

“I loved it, I loved everything,” Yuri quietly says. His voice still sounds far away, but Yuuri knows he’ll be back to being himself soon.

“Shh…” Yuuri says as he goes from rubbing Yuri’s back to stroking his hair, “I know you did. I loved it too, you were great for me.” He's not shaking as hard now, and Yuuri lets out a small sigh of relief that he's calming down from his high.

Yuri’s crying eventually subsides, but Yuuri continues holding him, making sure he doesn't start up again. Yuri remains quiet, relaxed in his arms.

“Wait here, I'm going to get you some water and wash my hands, okay?” Yuri nods. It's obvious he's not paying much attention as he refuses to let go. Yuuri resorts to gently peeling him and having him sit against their pillows before he leaves.

Yuuri soon returns with a cup of water, a wet rag, and clean hands. “Here, drink.” His voice is gentle, but the stern undertones are soothing to them both. He grabs the cup, and begins gulping water down.

“Slower, you’ll choke like that.”

Yuri gives him a look, but complies. The small, barely there scowl on Yuri’s face makes Yuuri smile softly out of fondness, and relief that Yuri seems to be coming out of subspace okay. He hands the empty cup back to Yuuri, who just places it on their nightstand before pressing the cold rag against Yuri’s face, gently wiping away dried tears, sweat, and blood. It's then he notices that Yuri’s staring at him like he's the best thing in the universe, and Yuuri feels himself blush due to his own bashfulness.

Yuri just giggles and wraps his arms around Yuuri again, pulling their bodies close together.

“Cuddles?” Yuuri asks, and holds Yuri close to him when he feels him nod into his chest.

They sit like that for a while, in silence as Yuuri runs his fingers through Yuri’s hair as Yuri holds onto him, face hidden in his chest. His breathing and body relax considerably, and Yuuri can tell he's falling asleep, probably crashing from his endorphin high.

“Hey, let's get you clean first. I need to take care of your legs and side before you can sleep,” Yuuri says giving Yuri a small shake.

Yuri seems to have to somehow forgotten about his bleeding wounds, because he looks down and gasps in shock when he discovers he accidentally bled all over Yuuri’s clothes as he was being held. He's about to furiously apologize before Yuuri shuts him up with a kiss. “Don't worry, I’ve gotten good at handling bloodstains. Besides, they're old clothes anyway so it's not a big deal if I can't get it out. Let's just get you in the bath. Can you stand?”

Yuri looks at him and scoffs. “Of course I can stand, what do you take me for?” He pulls away from Yuuri, leaping up off his lap. His legs blatantly disagree with the sudden movement, however, and the sudden flash of pain from his wounds all simultaneously reopening at once make him lurch forward and almost send him crashing toward the floor.

Luckily, Yuuri catches him before that happens. Yuri looks up at him, face red with embarrassment before looking down at his now bleeding legs and side.

“That's what you get for being stubborn. Here, let me help you,” Yuuri says, trying not to give a disapproving frown at his partner’s stubbornness. He grabs a towel from their bed, pressing it against Yuri’s wounds to try and slow the bleeding before wrapping him up. Once he's securely wrapped up, Yuuri hooks his arm under Yuri, leaning him against his body as he helps him limp to the bathroom.

“You ass, you got blood in my hair,” Yuri grumbles the minute he sees himself in the bathroom mirror. There's no genuine anger or malice in his voice, just mild annoyance that there was indeed blood all up in his hair.

“Forgive me if I wash your hair extra good?” Yuuri playfully pleads as he helps Yuri sit down on the toilet seat before preparing the bath for him.

Yuri just nods in agreement. “But you better wash it extra good.”

As the bath is almost ready for Yuri to enter, he hears him yelp in pain. Yuuri quickly turns around and sees him clutching the his side, a small amount of blood seeping between his fingers.

Before Yuuri can ask what the hell he did, Yuri sheepishly admits, “Apparently it wasn't a good idea for me to bend over and try to take off my underwear.”

“Apparently not. Want me to help?” Yuuri asks, and Yuri just nods in response. He helps him stand up, having him slightly lean against the wall as he begins to slide down Yuri’s underpants, taking care not to have the fabric rub against his wounded legs. He then helps Yuri into the bath, awkwardly half lifting him over the high edges.

Immediately, Yuri frowns at Yuuri. “It's not even warm!” The water’s got just enough heat in it to prevent Yuri from getting a chill, but other than that? Not warm at all.

“You're right, it's lukewarm. Hot baths aren't good for when you're out of it. We go through this every time,” Yuuri states matter of factly, and Yuri just whines and pouts his name in response.

Still, despite his disappointment over the lukewarm bath, Yuri can't help but lean into Yuuri's arm as he lathers soap onto his back and shoulders in silence .

“How are you feeling?” Yuri asks, speaking up while Yuuri gently pats soap over Yuri's chest, obviously trying to not irritate the tender spots while still trying to scrub off the dried blood he had smeared all over.

“Huh? Me?” Yuuri asks, taken aback by the sudden question.

“Who else would I be talking to?” Yuri huffs, “You don't feel bad, right?” He winces and sharply inhales when Yuuri pats over his wounded side, the soap stinging just a bit. Yuuri quickly mumbles an apology, and proceeds to clean a bit gentler.

Yuri wastes no time getting back on subject. “But yeah, if you feel bad, don't. I should have listened to you when you asked me if I wanted to stop. I thought I could handle it, and plus…” he looks away, and Yuuri can see a faint dusting of pink on his cheeks as he turns his head, “Everything felt so good, I didn't want you to stop.” He turns his head around again to look in Yuuri’s direction, but still a bit too sheepish to look directly at him. “What you did at the end, will you do it again?”

“Careful, this might hurt a bit,” Yuuri warns. Before Yuri has a chance to ask what he was talking about, he winces at the sudden pain of Yuuri gently patting the cuts on his thighs with the washcloth. “And I will, but only on the condition that the next time I decide you've had enough, we just stop without me asking if you want to continue or not. You don't seem to quite know your limits yet, and this happens more often than I’d like.”

“Sounds good,” Yuri says through clenched teeth. “And if you feel bad, I’ll take care of you until you don't.”

By that, they both know Yuri will be extra appreciative of all the extra love and attention he’ll be getting over the next few days.

Yuuri hands him the washcloth. “Here, wash your face while I wash your hair, you've still got some blood on it.”

Yuri can't help but sigh in relaxation as Yuri lathers and rinses out his hair. He's always so gentle whenever he washes his hair, it's always enough to make him melt in contentment. Maybe getting blood in his hair isn't so bad after all...

Once he's fully rinsed off, Yuuri helps him step out of the bath and back down onto the toilet seat. By the time he was done, the bath water had a faint pink hue to it, and they both always always end up commenting on what a pretty color it is.

“Oh boy, time for the best part…” Yuri mumbles, voice dripping with sarcasm just as Yuuri finishes patting him dry. He knows what's about to come, the dreaded first aid kit, complete with the anti-septic that stings and burns like hell.

“Oh, you be quiet,” Yuuri says as he pulls it out from under the sink, “You're a masochist, you like pain. Pretend this is a scene or something.”

Yuri grumbles. He might like pain, but not _this_ kind of pain. Yuuri’s so fucking thorough too, and he knows the next thirty minutes or so will creep by and be absolute hell.

Yuuri starts by tending to the shallow scratches scattered about his torso. It stings a bit, but nothing unbearable or worth making noise over. The real agony will come when Yuuri gets to the deeper wounds, and soon enough, he's ready to start cleaning out the lacerations on the side of his rib cage. Yuri's heart pounds with dread as he sees him prepare a fresh cotton ball, pouring a decent amount of that terrible, terrible liquid on before looking apologetically at him. Yuri doesn't even have time to protest before he pats it over the deep wound, causing Yuri to hiss and swear under his breath.

“Holy fuck, be more gentle!” Yuri growls out. Yuuri ignores him, mumbling a constant stream of apologies as he disinfects the cuts.

“I'm barely touching you, you big baby!” Yuuri eventually retaliates. He's only halfway through taking care of the wounds on his rib cage, and hasn't even began tending to his legs. They were both in for a loooong first aid session.

“Bullshit!” Yuri cries back. He’s got his eyes snapped shut as Yuuri cleans out his cuts, teeth clenched and swearing under his breath. Still, Yuuri ignores his protests, carefully dabbing anti-septic over him and periodically switching over to fresh cotton balls.

By the time the wounds on his rib cage are totally cleaned out and sterilized, Yuri looks totally done and over with the ordeal. “You can call me nasty names in Russian if you want,” Yuuri tells him while he slathers ointment over the thick pad of gauze he's about to bandage to Yuri’s side.

Yuri shakes his head, rejecting that idea. “That wouldn't be fair to you, you're just taking care of me and making sure I don't get flesh eating disease or whatever infection bullshit.”

Yuuri shrugs in response, “Suit yourself. I'm starting your right leg now. Offer still stands.”

Yuri insists he won’t say nasty things in Russian, but not even a handful of pats later, the expletives start flying, and for once Yuuri's genuinely glad his Russian is downright terrible and he can't understand a damn word coming out of Yuri’s mouth.

“Here, grab onto my shirt if it’ll help,” he says when he notices Yuri's got his fists balled up so tight his knuckles are turning white. Yuri immediately takes him up on the offer, grabbing fistfuls of shirt and hiding his face into his shoulder. Yuuri just sighs and back Yuri’s shoulder sympathetically before continuing to sterilize his cuts, mumbling out the occasional apology as he does.

After what seems like forever, Yuri's finally all bandaged up.

“There, that wasn't so bad, was it?” Yuri just glares at him, as if he didn't just have the audacity to say that.

“I'm sorry for teasing you,” Yuuri says as he kisses his forehead in apology. “Let me get you some clothes, hold on.”

Yuri nods, and patiently waits for Yuuri to return.

Yuuri returns several minutes later, apologizing for the wait and handing him over something to wear. “Sorry, I wanted to put on something clean. I got you one of my old t-shirts, since I know you're probably not gonna be in the mood for pants for a while, and my shirts probably cover more than your shirts would.”

“Yeah, pants kinda suck after something like this,” Yuri says as he slowly gets dressed. Now that he's all bandaged up he doesn't need Yuuri’s help, but any kind of large movement is still sends waves of pain through him. Afterward, he carefully stands up, and Yuuri can't help but think how cute he looks wearing his too large t-shirt with hints of bandages peeking underneath his exposed thighs.

“What are you gawking at?” Yuri mumbles sheepishly once he notices Yuuri staring.

“You. You look adorable.”

Yuri looks taken aback, making a face and grumbling something under his breath before shyly grabbing Yuuri’s hand. “Whatever. I’m tired, come cuddle me in bed until I fall asleep.”

“Whatever you want, Yuri, whatever you want.” Yuuri says as he lets Yuri slowly drag him back into their room, onto their bed, and lovingly into each other’s arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! Come say hi to me on tumblr!!
> 
> Asexual kink has a very special place in my heart man...yeah...
> 
> Yuriyuu.tumblr.com


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